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In Post 1 and Post 2 of this series I looked back on my time as a pre-parent teacher and then as a parent in the present day.

While teaching and parenting are hugely important aspects of my life, they don’t define who I am.

It is interesting to note (to me at least) when I started blogging what information I added to my gravatar. ‘Mum’, ‘wife’, ‘sister’ and other titles were provided. But who am I?

Over the past two years I have seen myself on a course of discovery, trying to locate me and my passion. I won’t bore you with the long list of endeavours and ideas that floated through my mind.

Since the middle of last year I had thought about starting a blog but knew very little about what it entailed. On January 1 this year I decided that there was only one way to find out and that was to just do it (to borrow the famous Nike slogan). I could blog from home and it wouldn’t take me away from my young family. Yes! It was the perfect solution and it would be great. By choosing the theme and focus of my blog I would also be able to remind myself that there is love in the everyday moments of life with littlies.

Aiming high, which is always what I seem to do, I set out to write a post a day. Mum would probably say, ‘biting off more than you can chew.’ Yes, Mum, you’re right-as always (tongue in cheek).

Starting Free Little Words was the best thing I have done just for myself for a very long time. It is also the most time-consuming undertaking I have attempted in a very long time.

I don’t know about anyone else reading this but blogging, over the course of a week, has me sitting at my laptop or catching up on the reader on my phone for approximately 16 hours. That’s an ENTIRE DAY! Now, I don’t mean to shout at anyone but that’s a shedload of time.

Any new ‘thing’ that we choose to do generally takes time to learn and grow accustomed to. While I’m all for learning, there is a limit to the amount of ‘me’ I’m able to invest.

The one thing I am truly grateful for and would have given my left arm to rediscover was that I love writing. As the people closest to me would testify, I can talk underwater with a mouth full of marbles. I have a tendency to be a jabber jaws though and my mouth moves faster than my brain can handle. I trip over my words and get tongue tied, particularly when I’m nervous or anxious.

So writing is the ticket for me. Being able to think then write and order my words and erase when needed, is just plain awesome. Add to that, my experience with children and the love of rhyme and rhythm and I feel a natural affinity towards picture books.

So blogging has led to more writing but there just isn’t enough hours in the day to do everything. My manuscripts and ideas lay languishing on the bench at the end of every day, crying out for more words to join the fray.

So it has come down to this – my last post here on Free Little Words. I didn’t want it to sound so final even though it does.

There’s two young boys, who won’t be little forever, wishing that their mum would be slightly more present when she’s present. I owe them that much. Then when the lights are out and those eyelashes flutter as they dream sweet dreams, the words can spring forth to the begging blank page.

I leave you now with just one promise.

My journey on WP is not complete. I will be back; I’m just not sure when that might be. When I do, I hope you’ll welcome me back.

Teaching has been a big part of my life, spanning nearly two decades. What I didn’t know back then was how much I was learning about myself as a person and a future parent as I learnt to teach.

Over the years I have met as many different kinds of parents as I have students. Parent teacher interviews always afforded an insight into the children’s personalities, home life and behaviour. It also led to a deeper understanding, at times, leaving me with the saying, ‘the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,’ swirling inside my brain.

These parents came from all walks of life. There were those that had little but provided an abundance of love and support. The type of parents who expected the best from, and for, their child were in abundance. The couldn’t-care-less approach was adopted by the minority.

I saw parents arrive holding their little one’s hand and helping them prepare for the day. They fostered their independence but assisted them if need be. I vowed to be that type of parent.

I saw parents arrive early and stand chatting until the bell went-always there to greet their child with a warm hug and a kiss at the end of their day. I vowed to be that type of parent.

I saw parents only to willing to help out at school. They were never too busy to lend a hand, listen to reading or applaud their child when they received an award at assembly or sports day. I vowed to be that type of parent.

I saw parents rush their kids to the car, in a hurry to get to that appointment or sports practice. ‘Get in the car, now,’ they’d say through gritted teeth. I vowed not to be that type of parent.

I saw grandparents bring their children’s children to school every day of the week. Some of their circumstances necessitated this, of that I was sure. I vowed not to be that type of parent as long as I could help it.

I saw parents ‘drag their kids up’ rather than raise them, some showing their children that they were a burden rather than a privilege. I vowed not to be that type of parent.

I knew what kind of parent I wanted to be.

Like most non-parents I stood in judgment of all other parents, keeping my thoughts to myself. Somehow I was of the conclusion that my teaching degree gave me an understanding of children that non-teaching parents didn’t have.

Imagine if you could, just for a moment, the kind of parent you imagined you’d be, merging perfectly with the parent you’ve become. Do I hear guffaws of laughter from those of you who think that’s hilarious?

Through my 20’s, which was also the beginning of my teaching career, I thought I had a good handle on the concept of parenting.

On my very first day, I had a class of 5 year olds who came in with saucer-like eyes. They stole glances at me; this newbie who hadn’t a clue what was about to occur. Just as a predator can smell fear, I am certain that they could sense mine.

As the bell rang, most of the children made their way to the floor as a mother entered with her son. She seemed flustered as the boy eyed me from his latched position on her leg. She said she was going to be late for an appointment and needed to leave. Being fresh as a spring daisy, I tried to utilise my limited arsenal to encourage him to join his classmates on the mat.

Holding out my hand, he clung even tighter while his mum detached him and thrust his arm out to me. With his tiny wrist surrounded by my hand, he kicked at my shins and screamed blasphemous words that would put a drunken sailor to shame. The mum had turned on her heel already and I wasn’t far behind. I closed that door behind me with trembling hands and tears of failure streamed down my face as I made my way down the corridor to the principal’s office.

Thousands of children, all with different personalities, quirks and backgrounds have since crossed the threshold into the classrooms in various schools where I have practised my craft. Now, I also have children of my own.

All of these children came through doorways paid for by the government. Some of these entrances were in need of a new coat of paint, some doors were bearers of scars from fists, chair legs and other implements randomly thrown. Others displayed pride, colourfully decorated with art work, welcoming anyone who would step through. Perhaps the posters and drawings just covered up any harm that had been done to the surface.

I, too, bear the scars. There are physical ones you can see. Scratches on my hands, my skin dug at so deeply that as I age they become whiter; a constant reminder of my journey. There are emotional ones etched on my heart that only I can feel. True stories of children who awoke each school morning top-to-toe with their brother in the back seat of the family car. Tummies rumbling at a quarter to nine was as common as the unwashed uniforms and tousled hair. Children who had lost a parent through accident, illness or an horrendous tragedy. The communities that grieved for a student lost, much too young to be with us no more.

Ten years of teaching, before my first son was conceived, and these children helped me to learn more than I probably taught them.

There are more people blogging on WP than there are countries in the world to visit. Where do you choose to go first? Do you rely on pot luck, the ‘stumbled upon’ approach or a fool proof system that ensures you only see what interests you?

Armed only with a keen desire to find some great bloggers, I’ve set out to bring together some of my all-time favourites with new and inspiring content.

I’d like you all to meet Stuart Perkins. Unfortunately he was unable to be here but luckily I’ve spent some time over at his blog recently and can give you a bit of a rundown.

You’ve heard of the Dog Whisperer and here in Australia we have a Horse Whisperer too.

Stuart is the Bus Whisperer. He’s from Arlington and writes about the everyday moments and turns them into humorous stories (true). If you choose to drop by, some recent posts include Carol’s rendezvous with a black snake and George’s attempt at bringing a new girl into the fray.

Story Shucker is where you’ll find Stuart and I reckon he’s got a good thing going. Starting only last month, he has seen 257 people follow his blog already and over 4000 hits (if you’re a stats lover).

Now, Brian, the Jogging Dad, would probably rather jog the 4 miles Stuart travels than catch a bus. He’d be all sweaty by the time he got to work and would probably be crossing his legs as he’s not fond of relieving himself on the run. I suggest you don’t ask him what fartlek means and if he is not running away from his parenting duties he performs epic fails by his own admission.

Brian thinks when he runs whereas I’d rather just think about running and hope it has the same effect. He’s funny as and even has a t-shirt with joggingdad.com printed on it. He thinks it’s tasteful but you can make up your own mind. Keep your eyes peeled around Sydney Harbour in case you run into him. Jogging Dad’s been around the blog block for a while and I’ve been running with him in spirit for quite some time now. He’d probably die of shock if he knew I planned to do the City to Bay 12k run in September.

Only today, I found Kahn’s Wise Words. Sharon and Bud Kahn offer a daily quote, saying or inspirational thought. I’d love to have a desk to put one of the those desk calendars on. Being a relief (temp/substitute) teacher means I don’t have a desk to call my own. I can now have it on my laptop screen though, and may use it to inspire me for future posts if my muse goes missing.

When it’s peace I seek and a moment to pause, I drop in to see Laurie at Laurie’s Notes. Since the beginning of this year Laurie has enabled me to seek refuge at her blog and remember to breathe. She employs beautiful images and gentle words to offer comfort, affirmation and healing to her visitors. After reading one of her posts I always feel a sense of calm and that the inner hustle of my thoughts have quietened. It only takes a few moments as Laurie’s notes are always short but profound in their message.

I created the Blogtrotter logo to represent the journey that writers take as they venture around WordPress, knowing that there are no far corners, just endless opportunities and limitless creativity to be found. If you’d like to use the logo on your blog, feel free.

Does that stifled feeling leave you dreaming of taking off in search of sensational content from exotic locations, poems from the most gifted souls, meaningful musings from passionate writers and some of the funniest bloggers you’ll find on this planet?

They’re all right here waiting for you to come over.

Please accept this invitation to become a blogtrotter and the opportunity for unique expeditions will surround you.

6 months have passed since Free little Words began it’s journey here on WordPress. In the beginning, I planned to post every single day. At times, this was difficult and I definitely lost sleep over what I wanted to write. After the 5 month mark, came a wall. The realisation that publishing a post just to honour the commitment I made to myself became glaringly obvious. Quality was not the main focus anymore and it became increasingly difficult to keep up with the reader, comments and housekeeping.

Daily prompts passed by without a glimpse, serial ‘liking’ happened more often than not and time constraints stopped me from responding in kind to awards. The most difficult part was making time to discover new blogs, particularly the blogs of those people who had found mine. Some are following Free Little Words, others have commented but return visits haven’t eventuated. Added to this was the determination to have my first manuscript out the door which was accomplished.

So, now a change of scenery is being demanded. There are awesome blogs just waiting to be delved into. Becoming a blogtrotter and uncovering some awesome new blogs is a priority. I feel the need to be inspired: to find the funny, unique, positive, thoughtful and thought provoking blogs that will stretch an atrophied mind, allow it to be drenched in sunlight and be open to accepting new challenges.

There are other reading challenges on WordPress but most come with a set of rules and while conforming to a certain way of doing things is normally right up my alley, I want to fly by the seat of my pants this time round and do exactly as I please. No rules. Oh boy!

As a result there won’t be much going on within these walls for the next few weeks. Unearthing at least one new blog a day is going to be the main focus. When a blog is worth a shout out you’ll be the first to know. Featuring some old bloggerellies with the new is part of the overall plan. By highlighting your blog, the aim is to connect you with new followers.

The WordPress Blogtrotter badge is yours to do with as you wish. No strings. No fine print.

Continue to write as you always have. There may be many ‘someones’ about to discover you through your next post.

There comes a time in life, where you feel so exhausted & are craving for somebody to inspire and motivate you. I'm going through the same time right now, I need YOU to hear me out. To advice me, to suggest me the Do's and DONT's -- as I share my life stories with you.